A Dark Horse
by sylvie-morose
Summary: When Mare wants to join a thieving crew, most of the the other thieves are dubious -- especially the leader, charismatic Kelsier BEFORE he Snapped. But Mare has powers even Allomancy can't explain...
1. Yes, We're Open

Mistborn: The Dark Horse

Her hair and eyes were dark, creating a contrast with her complexion, pale for a skaa. "Kelsier." Mare said, looking at the name scratched into the dark paint on the door, and shook her head. Just as Marsh had said. Well, she needed the money, and Marsh had said his brother would be generous toward her. She wasn't getting any money standing under the falling ash, after all.

She opened the door, an old wooden scent permeating the room. The old man at the counter turned to her; he was an old man, with a stern face and a limp in his step as he made his way to her end of the counter. "May I help you?" he asked, gesturing to his wooden works that littered the room.

"I'm looking for a man named Kelsier," the woman said, leaning on the man's counter. "I'm told he's the thief I'm looking for."

"Kelsier?" His voice was rough, the quiet tone that wouldn't take any nonsense from anyone.

"Marsh sent me."

"Clubs." He said by way of introducing himself. Then: "Kelsier should be here in a few minutes." Clubs paused, and pulled from his thick work-apron a small knife and a piece of wood. "I don't suppose you'd be with the revolution, then?"

She shook her head. "Marsh has been trying to recruit me, but… I'm broke. I've been living off strangers like Marsh for the past few months."

"You weren't on the fields?"

"No." She sat for a few minutes in silence, watching as Clubs shaved wood off the small chunk he held; Mare wasn't sure what he was making, but it was forming some cylindrical shape. Ridges appeared as he whittled it down, ridges and curves. "What is it?" she asked at last.

Clubs looked down; his knife had seemed to be working on his own before. "None o' your business," he muttered, suddenly gruff.

"I'm Mare."

"That's none o' _my_ business." His eyes drew up to her again. "Why are you here, anyhow?"

Mare took in a breath, then started. "I need money. I'm tired of staying at strangers' doorsteps; my father was a craftsman, and he took care of himself. I want to do the same."

"So you came to borrow from a man you've never met before?"

"No. I want to be a thief."

Clubs dropped his knife; he bent down to reclaim it, muttering "Worse than begging."

Mare raised her eyebrows. "Yet better than the whorehouses. It's because I'm a woman, isn't it? Marsh would've thought the same, so I let him believe I was just borrowing money. He would rather me a prostitute than a thief. And… I could help you. I know what you are."

"Yeah. A carpenter." He was back to whittling whatever trinket it was, yet his eyes remained glued to her. "And you're a pretty girl… too pretty to be a freeloader."

It wasn't the first time she had been called pretty. Still, it was flattering from this gruff man, especially the way he said it like an insult. "I don't want to be a freeloader. You don't want me to be a freeloader. What's wrong with me being a thief?"

"You're noticeable. If you were to be a good thief, you would have to be inconspicuous."

"I don't want to be a con artist. I'm going to be a thief. At night, I have… a talent."

Clubs paused. "Tineye?"

Mare paused, then nodded. "Smoker?"

"You can speak with Kelsier about your… career change," the old man said, not answering her question. "We could use a good Tineye. If Kelsier wants my opinion, I can't promise that he'll agree, but… I think you might be able to pull it off. _Might_," he emphasized as a smile grew on Mare's face. "Don't go getting hopeful; hopeful skaa are more conspicuous than pretty girls.

"Kelsier should be here any minute."


	2. Breeze

A Dark Horse: Chapter 2

"Girl! Wake up!" Clubs said, nudging Mare's shoulder. "You fell asleep." Mare lifted her head, and pushing her mess of curls from her face, tried to recall what had happened. She lay on one of Clubs's wood benches, she remembered, after the first couple of hours of waiting for Kelsier. Her cloak was wrapped about her like a blanket, and her clothing was disheveled.

"I'm… I'm sorry. Did he leave? I hope he's not… Damn," she said, realizing her tin had gone out. She had been burning it as she waited for the man of mystery, augmenting her hearing for any footsteps or other signs of him. She must have been burning it in her sleep. "My tin's gone."

"You shouldn't do that… You're lucky Breeze stopped by; he's a fool with brass. I always find that the safest thing to do around him is burn my own copper; that always annoys him, that he can't influence me. You realized the Lord Ruler could find you, girl?" Clubs asked, retreating back behind his counter.

Mare looked away. "I… Who's Breeze?"

"You were asleep; like I said, you were lucky. He's as fond of wine almost as much as of himself, the pompous windbag. Well, if you'd like, you could go out for breakfast while waiting for Kelsier."

Mare's expression became one of disbelief. "He still hasn't shown up?"

Clubs seemed to almost smile. "He's never been convenient. I recall times he'd shown up a week after we expected. Well, breakfast?"

Mare looked across the shop, a sudden indignation at this Kelsier's impudence. As kind as she knew Marsh to be, his brother was starting to look like a jerk; funny, when she hadn't even met him yet. She crossed her legs where she sat. "I'm not leaving this shop until I meet this man."

"Nonsense! You'll be loitering here for days, and I'm certain that Clubs here wouldn't like that!" a robust said from behind her. Mare twisted her neck around to see a man dressed in noble clothes, a glass of dark wine cradled in his hand. "My dear, I can't believe you would rather stay in this droll shop than take a walk in the city," he said, standing in the doorway to what Mare guessed to be Clubs's apartment.

Irritation seemed to melt away, and Mare nodded. "Yes, that might be a better idea. It really doesn't make much sense to…" she stopped, then tilted her head. "Ah. You must be the Soother. Breeze?"

Breeze gave a glance to Clubs. "Gossiping behind my back, old man?"

"Thought it'd be best to warn her," Clubs said.

The rounded man turned back to Mare. "He's been talking a lot apparently. So you're the girl who wants to be a thief. Odd career choice."

"Don't think you can change my mind."

He shrugged, starting to smile. "You have nothing to fear, madam. I only wish that you know what you're getting into. Of course, Kelsier won't have anything to do with it." Mare looked at him, questioning. "Why my dear, he's the leader of this operation. He's also quite the gentleman, and he won't have a woman like you driven to stealing."

"I thought you needed a Tineye."

"Clubs has a nephew training for the crew." Breeze paused, then turned back to Clubs. "Why don't you get the women something to eat, can't you see she's famished?" Clubs grumbled, then left for the apartment, leaving Breeze to turn his attention back to Mare. "Why would you want to be a thief? You look like you could be a noble's daughter."

"I'm broke. I want to like on my talents, not charity," Mare said. "And I know that you could use my tin. You're going to send a boy out? I'm willing to do what it takes here, and I'm tougher than most of your crew, if many of them are like you," she added, crossing her arms.

Breeze only smiled. "I see. Well, that's up for Kelsier to decide then." He seemed smug about it – Mare gritted her teeth, and made up her mind that even if Kelsier turned down her request, she would rob this pompous man blind.

Clubs entered from the apartments, holding a bowl of what looked like soup. Smiling again, Mare rose to take it from him, when the door burst open. Startled, the bowl dropped from her hands and shattered, bits of pottery amid hot broth. Mare looked to the intruder, annoyed, and saw the oddest thief she had ever seen.


	3. The Interview

A Dark Horse: Chapter 3

Standing in the doorway to Clubs's shop stood a young man with a jovial smile. He was blond with clean, well-kept hair, with a severe nose and a square face; he resembled his brother. His clothes were that of a skaa's, yet they were clean and neat, different from the common skaa; Mare tried to forget about her own plain dress, wrinkled from the night's sleep on one of the benches in the shop. "Kelsier, I presume?" she asked, making a point to be professional.

The man entered the shop, and from that and the smile he wore, the difference between he and his brother Marsh were apparent; he was indifferent to the trials of ordinary life, and walked with a tall back and head held high. Mare wasn't sure if the effect was refreshing from Luthadel's general depression, or if it was an annoyance. "I'm sorry for that," he said simply.

Mare realized he meant the upset soup, forgotten even now as it soaked into her shoes. "You should be," she said, setting her mouth into a frown. God, how she wanted to be annoyed by him. Didn't he realize there were people being mistreated by the very Lord Ruler that ignored this man's exploits in thievery? Oh well. "Kelsier?" she repeated, as he didn't answer it the first time.

Clubs, disappearing after the soup's voyage to the wooden floor, joined them with a ragged cloth and bucket of water. "You're terribly late, Kelsier," he said, then tossed the soaked rag onto the floor with the soup.

"I expected my tardiness to be expected."

"It's impolite to be late for a lady," Breeze said, seated on one of the intricately carved chairs nearby. "Or did you forget that was today as well?"

Kelsier gave a suspicious look at Breeze, then returned his attention to the newcomer. "You're the damsel in distress my dear brother contacted me about? I didn't imagine you to be so… Well then. I am Kelsier, and this is a fraction of my crew, Clubs and Breeze."

"I know them already," Mare said carefully. "_They_ were on time. And no matter what Marsh says, I am not in distress." _How _did_ he imagine me?_ she wondered, a bit indignant. "I'm here for a job."

"As a what?"

Breeze burst into a smile. "Ah, Kelsier, as a thief. The lady wants to be a thief."

Kelsier looked at Mare again, the ridiculous smile gone now. "A… You want a place here? With the crew? But you're… Marsh never said anything about this," he finally settled on, sizing her up now.

"Marsh doesn't know about this. I want to earn my own living. I can do it… I'm a Misting, a Tineye. That's what Marsh told me, anyhow. And don't you dare think about refusing me, because I'm a girl or any of that rubbish. I get enough of _that_ from him," she said, looking back at Breeze. He pretended not to notice.

Kelsier still appeared to be thinking. "A woman thief… you look like you could be noble."

"I take after my mother. My father was a craftsman, my mother was of one of the noble houses. I never learned which one."

"And you're a Misting?"

"Tineye. I've heard you could use one?"

Kelsier started to shake his head. "I've never heard of… well. You realize this is a dangerous career, right?" Mare nodded. "You could be killed, by other thieves or the Obligators. You might even be killed by one of the people you steal from. And they won't take that you're a woman into account. Are you sure?" Mare nodded again.

"Are you actually allowing this?" Breeze said, disbelief on his face.

Kelsier looked at the portly man, grinning. "What? Jealous that I'll have another pretty face to look at beside your own?" He turned back to Mare. "How well can you act?"

"Well enough."

"And fighting?"

She set her face in a determined expression. "I can learn."

"She might be able to pull it off," Clubs said, prompting another bewildered look from Breeze and a smile on Mare. "She's got a will, seeing as she spent the night here waiting for you, and threatened not to leave until you came."

Kelsier was smiling again; Mare realized she was as well, and dropped it immediately. "Clubs has always been a good judge of character," he muttered. "Very well…"

"Mare," she offered.

"Mare," he echoed, and his smile crescendoed. "You're in."


	4. Second Thoughts

A Dark Horse: Chapter 4

I'm glad that I'm getting all these hits; I hope it's enjoyable so far, since I'm really pretty new at FF… still, review if you can. I want to make sure I'm doing this right!

Characters are all Brandon Sanderson; Mistborn belongs to him. This dialogue and narrative is mine.

Kelsier sat on the roof of Clubs's shop, looking over Luthadel. It was a depressing sight, even without the ashfall. Buildings were coated in soot, dirt was ground into the paved roads, and the dirt roads were filled with beggers and refuse. _And to think that the Lord Ruler was the cause of all this_, he thought. If only the man who had saved them all from the Deepness had an idea of the misery he put his subjects to. If only he weren't so powerful… perhaps then he would have joined his brother's skaa revolt, as futile as it was. As it was, he wasn't even close to touching a God, and the revolution Marsh put so much effort into was made up of men just like Kelsier.

Still, he was good in a fight. There was that, even if he wasn't as big a hero as his brother. Slipping a dagger out from his sleeve, Kelsier examined the point. One good thing about his lack of Allomancy, he had to develop other skills to compensate for it in order to survive this city.

He spun the hilt on his fingertip. "Survive," he said, echoing his thoughts. He was a survivor, if not an Allomancer. And those who weren't survivors weren't worth his time.

The question was, was this Mare a survivor?

"Kelsier?" He turned around, and saw Clubs standing in the hatchway to the apartments above the shop. "I thought you had left," the old man said, indifferent. "The girl's staying here for the night, until she has enough money to rent an apartment, or so she says."

Kelsier grinned. "I've been up here, alone with my second thoughts."

"I wasn't aware you had _first _thoughts."

"I don't know about this," he continued. "Sometimes I think Breeze has a point. She seems so… ladylike, and she wants to be a thief? This has 'obligator' written all over it. Yet she's so determined, and it isn't right for me to judge her because she's a woman… She could be injured, killed, and yet she's so flippant about her decision."

Clubs's eyebrows rose, and the old man stepped up to the roof along with Kelsier. "You're flippant about quite a few things, and being killed or injured has never bothered you. And if there's one thing I've learned from women, it's that they tend to be underestimated, and they tend to be clever. Even the stupid ones are clever. And I think Mare in particular has the determination."

"But can she cut it?"

Clubs snorted. "You aren't an Allomancer. Some might say that you don't have what it takes to be in this crew. As it is, I would say the both o' you are evenly matched. I think you should let her stay."

Kelsier frowned, then his knife disappeared into his sleeve. "Alright, Clubs, if you say so. We'll see how she does in combat tomorrow." Clubs nodded. "But right now I'm headed off." The crew leader gave one last grin toward the old man, then stepped off the edge of the roof. He landed on his feet on the cobblestone street, ash flakes fluttering up as his shoes contacted the ground.


	5. Always Expect An Attack

A Dark Horse 5:

Finally, a new chapter! Thanks so much for the replies! I'm glad to see some fellow Mistborn fans here… for the first few days I was afraid I was the only one. Well, here's to chapter five, and some real plot development!

"Is this really necessary?" Mare asked, a staff in her right hand, and her left pinching the unfamiliar fabric of her trousers between index finger and thumb. Along with the trousers, Kelsier had told her to tie her long hair back, and to meet him on the rooftop, away from Clubs and his customers in the shop. She had expected that he would train her a bit in the art of thievery, but fighting had never occurred to her as a possibility. "I mean, isn't there logic to not being detected in the first place?"

The crew leader smiled, then tossed his own staff between hands. "Ideally, a thief would never have to fight. Yet, it happens sometimes, when a guard decides to actually do his job instead of taking his usual eight-hour nap, or if the door gets locked behind you, or any number of surprises. Here, try to hit me," he instructed, holding his staff to the side, seemingly open to attacks.

Mare lifted her staff, then lowered it. "This is a …."

She never got to finish her sentence, as Kelsier swept his staff at her ankles, sending her crashing on her side. Ears ringing, Mare looked up at the grinning crew leader. "It's only a trick if you let me trick you. The trick… the _real _trick, is to always be on your guard. You don't always have to attack, but you should always expect one. Got the idea?" he asked holding his hand out to her.

Mare sat up, awkward in the trousers that replaced her dress. "Loud and clear." She took his hand, and allowed him to help her up. "I suppose I'm not to expect my opponent to help me up either?" she asked, allowing her own crooked smile to show.

Kelsier snapped his staff up, then back down in an overhead attack; in a burst of adrenaline, Mare brought hers up as well, meeting Kelsier's staff with a terrific crack. Half of his weapon broke off. "Good…" he said, dropping the short piece he was still holding. Faster than Mare could react, he crouched, and with a swift kick brought Mare down again. "But not good enough," he finished, slipping her staff out of her grip. "Always expect an attack, even when you take away their weapon. You don't need a weapon to attack."

"I could have done better if my tin was burning," Mare muttered.

"You need to learn to fight without tin. Tin is great for avoiding a fight, but… what is it, Clubs?"

Mare lifted her head to see the old man in the hatchway, a somber expression on his face. "It's the Obligators."

"Obligators? Here?" Kelsier asked, his tone somehow sharp. "They can't have found us. You've been burning copper, right?"

"I think I've managed to discourage them for a while, but they'll be back. You'll have to leave, Kel." Clubs looked at Mare. "Might as well take Mare with you. I'm sure _I_ can't teach her combat as well as you can."

Mare glanced up at Kelsier. "What do we do?"

He was standing with that serious look on his face, his eyes set ahead as he thought. "I guess I'll have to take you to my apartment." He looked at Mare. "And you swear you don't know anything about this?"

"What, the Obligators? _No,_ on my life."

Kelsier inhaled, then let out a sigh. "I don't know if this is foolish, but I trust you. Yes, I trust you," he repeated, most likely to himself. "Come on," he said after a few moments.

Mare stood up, and watched as Kelsier sprang from the edge of the roof, and landed on the ash-coated ground. She paused, and turned to Clubs. "I suppose I'm going to jump off a lot of roofs while I'm around him, won't I?" she asked.

Clubs gave a grim nod.

Kelsier shouted up behind her, "If you get chased by a Coinshot, you'll need to get used to jumping from high places! I'll catch you this time."

Mare looked down, and grimaced. "Well, if you can trust me…" She took a deep breath, and jumped off the edge.


	6. Vulnerable

A Dark Horse: Chapter Six

Characters and world belong to Brandon Sanderson.

"I'm sorry," Kelsier repeated for what seemed the fifth time since Mare had jumped off the roof, landed wrong on her ankle, hit her shoulder, and scraped her otherwise uninjured leg. "I'm… not very practiced at teaching, believe it or not."

He grinned at Mare, then nearly stumbled, but regained his footing; Mare almost wished he had tripped, if not for the fact he insisted on _carrying_ her. It was ridiculous, she thought to herself; it was bad enough that his numerous apologies were negated by the grins he insisted on giving her, but she was _surely_ capable of getting to Kelsier's apartment without having to hang between his arms, nothing to do except being bitter. _Lord Ruler, can he see anything about me besides the fact I have cleavage? _

_Still, it is rather nice to relax here. Just let him carry me a bit…_

_No. Not by Kelsier, _she thought, angry with herself for the sudden self-treachery. Not that man who had humiliated her twice in what little training they had accomplished this morning. _Not this grinning, idiotic, moronic _fool_ who acts like a God._

_That would be the Lord Ruler. Kelsier actually cares about people… Why did he hire you in the first place, if he's such a fool?_

"Are you sure I'm not too heavy?" Mare asked, compelled to get away from her thoughts. "I could walk, really. I'm not made of glass." Kelsier said nothing, and Mare realized that she had whispered the words. "Kelsier, I really _could…"_

"_Sh." _That startled Mare, but then realized that his interjection was actually a reflex; the way he looked around, almost worried… They were being followed, or at least, Kelsier thought they were, she realized. He had moved out of the morning sun, and starting walking through the dirtier, darker streets. "Burn your tin," Kelsier whispered to Mare.

"Uh… I can't."

"What?" Kelsier asked. "Why not?"

Mare tried not to let clenching guilt affect her. "I'm out of tin. I burnt the last of it last night."

"Lord Ruler, you should have told me sooner," he muttered. "What's the use of having a Tineye if she doesn't have any tin?" Sighing, Kelsier moved to the side of one of the buildings, and gently placed Mare on the ground. "Wait here, I'll lure them off."

Mare started to protest, but he was already off, sprinting in the direction he had just come from. "Well, this is a great start to my life as a thief," she muttered to herself. What use was giving that entire spiel about not underestimating her for being female if the other thieves were just going to leave her against a wall whenever danger came? Making up her mind, she struggled to stand up, pain flaring through her ankle. She ignored it, but had to lean on one of the barrels nearby.

"What a surprise." Mare turned her head, and managed to catch a glimpse of an Obligator behind her, crimson tattoos spiraling around his eyes. "A pretty little Skaa. You must be a fighter, then?"

Mare bit her lip. So this was the kind of trouble that other Skaa women got in. She found herself liking Marsh more, the more time she spent with his brother. "Listen, I'll leave if I'm interrupting any… Obligator business of yours…"

"Oh no, you're not interrupting anything," the Obligator said, circling around to face her, her eyes matched to his. He walked like a cat, and Mare almost imagined that he walked on the balls of his feet like one, waiting to pounce. "I may have to take you in, however."

"I'm not doing anything," Mare said. _Why did she have to jump off a roof the hour before_? she thought to herself.

"You've got money, don't you? If you aren't a beggar, you're a thief, and both are subject to the Lord Ruler's penalties." He finally came closer to her, and grabbed at her ponytail, pulling hard enough to excite pinpricks on pain along Mare's scalp.

"_Let go_!" she said, twisting to get a grip on his arm, her ankle starting to throb as she forgot to keep her weight off it.

The Obligator took her arm, and pinned it along with the other behind her back. "Well, I suppose I could let you off the hook. You are a pretty little thing, after all…" he whispered into her ear; he broke into a yell as Mare brought her good leg into his groin. The Obligator stayed upright, however, while she collapsed on her sprained ankle. "Maybe I should take you to one of the nobles; I'm sure one of them would love to have you."

Mare flinched, waiting for another attack, yet instead the shout of the Obligator, and seconds later the sound of his weight hitting the floor. Glancing up, she saw Kelsier standing above the fallen Obligator, a bloody dagger gripped tightly in his hand. "I leave for one damned second, and you end up in trouble," he muttered, pulling her up by the hand. "I hope this isn't a habit of yours."

"I can walk…"

Kelsier paused. "Alright. Lean on me, though… The building's a little ways away." For once, Mare accepted without a word, wrapping her arm around his neck as he helped her to the staircase that led to what Mare supposed to be her temporary haven.


	7. In The Chamber Of A God

A Dark Horse: Chapter Seven

Note: World and its characters belong to Brandon Sanderson.

"Lord Ruler," the obligator began. "We found Azar unconscious in the street."

The Lord Ruler sat in his private chamber, his skin pale and crinkled, and his hair dark silver. The room was small, featuring only his throne, a few shelves of books, and a leather-bound book, placed reverently on a wooden stand in the corner. "Unconscious?"

"Well…" the Obligator paused. "Dead. Stabbed in the heart."

The Lord Ruler sighed. "Do we know who it was that killed him?"

"A skaa. We suspect there were two in on it; there was one male, who did the actual killing."

"That'll be _simple_, tracking him down _among the hundreds of male skaa in the city,"_ the Lord Ruler said, impatient.

"My Lord Ruler, there was another one, who lured Azar aside," the obligator stammered. "A female. Paler than a skaa, possibly the daughter of a nobleman. Long, dark hair." A pause, then the Lord Ruler nodded. The obligator let out an exhale, then said, "We can search out the area for her, if you command it."

The Lord Ruler thought. _Why expend forces on a search when a girl that conspicuous will likely show up again? _a voice asked in his mind. The voice made sense.

"She'll turn up eventually. A girl in the slums of Luthadel, pale with dark hair…" The Lord Ruler nodded, tapping one of his bracers. His gray hair darkened to black, his papery skin pulling taut with new strength. His teeth, once crooked and weak, shone white as he grinned. "Yes. We'll wait."


	8. Stranded

Yay, I've finally got a new chapter! Sorry for the delay, my home computer's been riddled with macro-viruses that made it impossible to upload anything. So here's chapter 8!

It was her second day as an invalid in Kelsier's apartment, yet Mare still grumbled. True, it was nice to get a bath everyday – cleanliness had become a treat after her father's death – but it was a nuisance to drag her splinted leg to the copper tub, and to leave it dangling over the side only nagged at her mind while she ground the scant bar of soap against her arm. Her scratches were all healed, but her bruised sides still ached when she put pressure on them. What really made her scowl, however, were Kelsier's words as he left: _"You can care for yourself. The Lord Ruler knows you're stubborn enough to." _He had paused. _"Still, I'll send a friend to keep you company."_

Many protests later, and then he had left, that grin wide enough now to crack his face apart. Mare didn't mind him leaving, not a whit; it was the fact he thought her unable to accompany him that grated at her so! So she was left alone in an apartment that surprisingly looked little like Kelsier. The furnishings were plain enough: one linen cot and a wooden drawer occupied the bedroom, the kitchen was a series of counters and a pantry, and the bathroom was stained off-white walls, bare floors and copper fixtures. What fascinated Mare though, was the abundance of common metals. The knives were good steel. The hinges appeared to be iron. Unfortunately there was no source of tin, Mare thought, sighing. At least then she could cast her senses out of this house, if she could not leave it herself.

Her teeth clenched. Only two days in an actual house, and already she took it for granted? She was becoming as selfish as a noblewoman; _next I'll be scoffing at plantation skaa!_

Her hands gripped at her hair, the long strands black in the bathwater. It was one luxury that Mare had kept while staying with Marsh in those caves. It was tied back into its ponytail and still it swam about her, threatening to tie knots around her. Noblewomen's hair. Her mother's hair.

A knock sounded from the front door. Mare frowned. "I'm coming, hold on!" She eased herself from the tub, then slipped on her dull dress – it was clean, yet that was its only redeeming quality – and headed for the door. She stopped herself from opening it, then peered through a small knothole. "Who is it?"

"Dockson?" a man's voice answered. He bore a scruffy half-beard, and wore skaa clothing, similar to those Kelsier wore as he left that morning. "A friend of Kelsier's."

Mare paused, then opened the door to the man. "Mare. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Dockson only nodded, and entered after Mare invited him in. "So, you're the woman who wants to be a thief. You realize, you haven't even been through the worst of it." He opened his mouth, then noticed that she was still dripping from her bath. "I'm sorry if I… interrupted you."

"You seem much too polite to be friends with Kelsier," Mare said, making her way over to the chair that stood against the opposite wall. "Breeze I can understand. Clubs is a bit rough around the edges himself, but you… well. I can't see you becoming a thief, is all I'm saying."

Dockson chuckled and nodded. "Well. I'm afraid you misjudge my position in all this. I'm not a thief." Mare raised an eyebrow. "Well, not a jump through the window burglar thief. I'm more of a scout of sorts. I'm in the crew because I'm Kelsier's friend, and because I'm the pragmatic one that makes sure Kelsier's insane schemes feasible."

"I would hate to be in your position," Mare said with a flat tone.

"I know."

Mare watched the man as he began to rifle through the pantry. "So… are you like Breeze?"

Dockson glanced back in surprise. "Pardon me?"

"Are you a Soother? No, a Seeker." Dockson still had that quizzical look on his face. "What is it?" Mare demanded.

"I'm not a Misting, Mare."

She raised a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I just assumed… Well, there's Clubs and Breeze… and me… and everyone says Kelsier's crew is the best, and…"

"I'm not offended."

Mare's expression returned to a scowl. "Then what is that face about?"

Dockson tilted his head to the side, "You do realize that Kelsier's not a Misting either?" Mare was silent, and Dockson grinned. "He isn't."

"I knew that! It's just… he acts like one. Like they can't even touch him… I guess I never really thought of what he _can't_ do. Is that… why he smiles all the time?" Mare asked, a new insight on Kelsier opening itself to her. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

Dockson laughed. "I think Kelsier's simply under the impression he has no limits; he's just fooled everyone else into believing it too. Allomancy isn't everything, you realize. Otherwise the nobles would be more formidable than they are."

"And so my being a Tineye doesn't impress at all."

"I'm afraid not."

Mare snorted. "So, if he doesn't need a Tineye, why did Kelsier ever say I was in in the first place? I can't fight, I'm… _conspicuous,_" she spat. "Why? Is he just insane?"

Dockson pursed his lips, pulling some bread from the pantry. "Several reasons. One, a Tineye is useful. You can detect if we're being followed. You can see better at nights, so you can find exits and entrances we might have missed. Maybe not required, but certainly useful. Two," he paused. "You won't like this."

"Try me."

"Kelsier is the type who likes a challenge. You're a woman who wants to be involved not with the cons, but with the actual stealing, though, as you said, you can't fight and you're conspicuous. Kelsier likes challenges because he believes he has no limits." Dockson burst into grin, one reminiscent of Kelsier's. "You're as stubborn as he is, so he might have bitten off more than he can chew."

Mare couldn't help but grin with him. "Well…"

"You should smile more often. Kelsier says you have a perpetual sour face." Mare's grin disappeared as Dockson's widened. "There it goes… Ah well. But to be frank," and now he was his serious self again. "If the rest of the crew tells him that you don't have what it takes, well…."

"Do you think I have what it takes?" Mare asked, adjusting her dress over her knees. "Clubs seems to think so, but Breeze seems a bit pessimistic…"

Dockson took his time in answering, tearing off bits of the loaf of bread he held and tossing them into his mouth, thinking most likely. "I don't know," he finally said. "I like you. You remind me of Kelsier a bit, ambitious and stubborn. That goes in your favor. But you did sprain your ankle."

"Because Kelsier told me to jump off a roof."

"And that was your first mistake. Just because Kelsier believes he can do anything, that doesn't mean you should always listen to him." Dockson shook his head. "I won't know until you complete your first job."

Mare perked up. _He has a job planned, doesn't he?_ "What job?"

Dockson's scholarly cool melted a bit. "Job? I meant whenever Kelsier let you join one of the plans. You'll need about a month to heal that leg, won't you?"

"It's only sprained. If I'm lucky it'll be fine in a week." Dockson nodded, but there was something else, something that concerned him… _They're planning a job! _she realized. "What are you guys planning?"

"Just a small job, really…" Dockson said, yet his smile seemed flimsy.

_Kelsier must really like you, because you're a terrible liar,_ she thought to herself. "Sounds perfect for a novice, then," she said, smiling.

"No. It's… Keep Elariel is getting an atium shipment."

Mare's ears would have perked up if they could have. "When? That'd be… the heist of the year! I have to go."

"No you don't."

"Of course I do! What are we doing with the atium?" Mare asked, a thought occurring to her. "Kelsier's crew doesn't have any… Mistborn, do they?"

Dockson shook his head, almost smiling. Almost. "That's a romantic notion, but we're pulling this heist for the money. I wager that I'll have gray hair before I meet a Mistborn. But I'm sure you'll want to… train up before joining a heist with such huge stakes."

"I want to prove myself! And if I have about a month to get ready for this, I will. I will learn to fight, I will learn how to be sneaky, I will jump off a wall every day if that's what I need to be ready for this job." Mare took a deep breath. "Kelsier doesn't believe in limits. I _know_ I have limits, Dockson, but that doesn't mean I can't overcome them! You know I'm right."

Dockson gave a slow nod. "Maybe you're right in that regard, but… he's right about the hair, Mare. I'm just saying, you could use a little time to adjust."

"You think it looks too noble," Mare said, frowning. "You think it's too… conspicuous." Dockson nodded. Mare made up her mind then, jutting her jaw forward. "Could you fetch a pair a scissors for me? In the drawer by the pantry." He paused, but it didn't take the man long to walk over to the kitchen and retrieve the steel shears - longer than it would've taken for herself to limp there with her bad leg. Finally, he placed the scissors in her hand, cautious but curious.

Mare didn't know how to begin at first, but then took the scissors to the base of her ponytail, cutting the entire wet chunk away until her hand clutched a bundle of that lovely hair, and what remained frayed around her head. Dockson watched in silence, no expression that gave away his thoughts. When she was done, Mare glanced up at him. "Tell Kelsier that when he enters the Keep, I'll be right behind him."


	9. Ruddy

A Dark Horse: Chapter Nine

Characters and world belong to Brandon Sanderson

Rudeous folded his arms, sitting on one of the stools in Kelsier's living room. He wasn't one of the crew leader's usual friends, but Kelsier had still notified him about this job on Elariel – turns out the old man Clubs had been unearthed by the obligators at last, and was now on the run. Bad for Clubs, good for Ruddy. "I don't suppose Kell will be here in the next fifteen minutes, Dox, old pal," the Smoker said, flashing a toothy grin at Dockson. "I don't understand why we show up when he's going to be hours late."

"I've been wondering about that myself," the girl on the cot muttered. Though her dark hair was chopped short, Rudeous could see why Kelsier had asked her to come. She was taller than most whores from the underground, and that skin belonged to a noble. Even though her leg was bound, he could imagine having some fun with her. If she ever stopped that fearsome scowl of hers, of course.

Dockson smiled, and took one of the bottles from the kitchen as well as a few glasses. "To guess at what Kelsier's plan is, of course."

"Raid Keep Elariel."

"Ruddy, there's one thing you must learn. Kelsier's motto: 'There's always another secret.'" The lanky scout pried the cork loose, then started to fill the glasses. "In this case, it's how he thinks to rob Keep Elariel. He's fond of challenges, remember."

Rudeous nodded. "Such as siccing Breeze upon Lady Hara Casuana?"

"She really was a delightful girl," Breeze's voice came from the doorway. Unlike the others, who were garbed as skaa, Breeze wore bright colors and buttons painted gold. "Now, who has Kelsier employed for _this_ job, then?" the rotund Soother asked, holding out a hand to accept one of the glasses Dockson had filled. "Ah, Ruddy. You're a surprise."

Ruddy grinned. "I've been looking forward to the next time Kelsier called for me. I never saw what he saw in the old curmudgeon; I've been waiting for him to botch one of these heists since I've met him." He glanced across the room again, and found that the pretty woman's scowl had deepened. "Come now, he can't have been the most pleasurable fellow you've dealt with. And certainly not the handsomest." Could those pretty eyes burn any more than they were now?

Dox cleared his throat. "Anyway, Clubs has been inconvenienced, so we'll been working with Ruddy for this job. Ruddy, Breeze, Vent, Kelsier, and I, altogether."

"And me!" The girl had forgotten Rudeous for the time being, thankfully. "My leg should be healed by then, and you said yourself a Tineye was useful. I'm ready for this."

"And Mare."

Rudeous nearly spilled his drink. _She's a Misting? But she's_ – He interrupted his thoughts. Of course she could be a Tineye. Her mother most likely consorted with a noble, somehow escaped execution, then gave birth to a Tineye daughter. Like mother, like daughter. Kelsier had probably took her on because she was a Misting, true, but Rudeous had met his share of cunning whores that used their 'connections' in their own favor. His own mother, for example.

Breeze interjected. "Where is Vent, may I ask?"

"He's late. But he'll show up sooner or later. Now how do you suppose Kelsier intends to pull this off?" Dox asked, handing glasses to Mare, then Rudeous. "And I'll tell you now, I have not been privy to any of Kelsier's plans. Ruddy?"

The Smoker took a sip from his glass. Wine, and not a bad one at that. "As long as it doesn't involve consorting with nobles, I'm ready for anything. Perhaps a simple infiltration of the canals, so that we get our hands on the atium before House Elariel?"

"Kelsier's operations passed 'simple' years ago," Breeze objected. "I'd guess something to do with hazekillers, at the least."

"That's excitingly suicidal."

"My point exactly." Breeze drained his cup. "Dox, another cup, please? Perhaps we'll take out the guards and steal their uniforms to avoid detection. Droll, but something I can imagine Kelsier doing. Your thoughts, Mare?"

Rudeous turned his head to the brunette. She mulled awhile, then said, "Maybe we'll hide inside a less guarded shipment. Then we'll be carried into the Keep, and wait until nightfall to start the heist." She caught a sight of Rudeous, and frowned. "You'd Smoke us, I'd listen for the sound of the guards, Breeze would Soothe the guards into a sense of security - "

"I dislike this plan already," Breeze interrupted.

Mare ignored him. " – and Kelsier and I will take out the guards and take off with the atium." She nodded to herself. "I'm probably far off, but it's only a guess."

A knock sounded to the door, and before Dox could open it, a man, lanky and tall, scurried inside. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, out of breath. "I was being followed. I don't know if I managed to lose him or not, but…"

"What?" Mare said, causing the man to jump. "Dox, what if it's the same obligators that found Clubs?"

"It's probably nothing," Dockson said, chuckling. "Vent's a bit of a worrywart. Still, you should lock the door. Or at least close it," he said, gesturing to the gaping doorway the newcomer had neglected to close in his hurried entry.

Vent raced to the door and slammed it, the action causing bits of dust to shake loose from the ceiling. He cringed. "Sorry."

Rudeous shook his head. "We should have gotten Ham instead."

Vent bit his lip, then looked at Dox. Those eyes seemed absolutely terrified. "Kelsier's not here? I hope he isn't laid up with obligators… Clubs was found recently, wasn't he? Why are we doing this then? We should be laying low, wait until the dust has settled! Lord Ruler, we'll be sent to the Pits if we do anything now!"

"You're quite the jitterbug, aren't you? So nervous about being squashed, " Rudeous said.

The boy, not more than twenty at most, shut his mouth and bit his lip again. Mare turned to Rudeous, her eyes burning. "We should wait for Kelsier," was all she said, but the way she looked then… it was clear she hated him. Rudeous smiled. _This could be fun. _It had been a while since he'd seen a girl with such light skin, and even longer since he had his way with one.

Breeze looked at the boy. "Vent, be a pal and refill my glass." Vent nodded, and without a word took Breeze's glass to the kitchen. "And yes, if anyone can come up with a way to make this work, it's dear Kell. 'Course he needs us to make it work."

"And then we'll be rolling in boxings!" Rudeous said, grinning. Yes, they would make the plan, whatever Kelsier's plan was, work. And if the brunette - Mare, she was called – were to ever let down that scowl of hers… Well, Rudeous knew well what they said about all work and no play…


	10. Disconnection

A Dark Horse 10

Character and world belong to Brandon Sanderson

The time passed with idle chatter and reminiscing about previous heists, yet Mare found that she didn't have much to contribute to the crew's conversation. She had never gone on any of these previous heists, and she was much too excited about the upcoming raid at Keep Elariel to listen to the other guys talk about other, lesser jobs. Besides, she didn't want to say the wrong thing in a room full of her future coworkers; it would be a shame to have them pressure Kelsier into dropping her before her first heist. So instead she sipped at the terrible tasting ale Dockson had given her, examining the other thieves.

Breeze was as self-indulgent as usual. He sipped at his ale as well, making his displeasure known by his fervent muttering. Still, he finished several glasses, and his rose-tinged face suggested the alcohol had a slight effect on him. He laughed louder as well, whenever Dockson had a dry comment for him. As much as Mare had originally disliked him, there was a genuine quality to him in the way he was first to proclaim his faults.

And then there was Vent, the young man that fretted and worried about… nearly everything, as far as Mare could tell. He was lanky, but cords of muscle bulged across his arms, and he held Breeze's glass, now full to the brim, as if it could break in his grasp any moment, never relaxing until Breeze accepted it. His dark eyes glanced about the room as if expecting the Lord Ruler to burst through the door at any moment, and his feet were never quite still. 'Jitterbug' was an apt, if insulting, description of him.

And then the one called Ruddy. He had the look of a man who spent his leisure hours in the whorehouses, and the way he'd stare at her every so often didn't contradict that impression. Mare wondered how many times she'd have to glare at him before he got the hint.

She'd probably die before that happened.

"I'm waiting outside," Mare said at last, lifting herself from the canvas cot.

"Mare, your ankle still needs - "

"Dox, my ankle is sprained, not made of porcelain." Mare made her way to the door with relative ease; a couple of days without a usable leg, and she had adapted to the situation rather quickly. It was interesting how her lack of tin became a sort of anesthesia to her, the throbbing in her leg strangely dull to her.

Yet by the time Mare stepped outside the door, she returned to missing her tin-enhanced senses. Somehow the mists seemed to reach toward her, and the usual pinpricks of lights that were visible most nights were obscured by the hazy gray of night. Closing the small door behind her, Mare found a place to sit by the staircase, breathing in the night air. Without tin, the night chill didn't seem to reach her bones, either, and Mare found herself smiling. Lord Ruler, it had been a time since she had enjoyed a night like this, one without rain or fear or responsibilities…

She lay against the staircase a while – anywhere from an hour to ten minutes – until she heard footsteps approaching. She lifted her head up at a modestly-clothed Kelsier. "You're late. What has our mighty crewleader been up to?"

Kelsier stopped, and Mare saw his blond hair was coated in ash. He smiled. "What has the lowly Tineye been doing? It's getting cold."

"To be expected. It's nearly two o' clock."

Kelsier seemed a bit startled. "That late? Well, we'd better get back inside. I suppose that Dockson is entertaining the rest of our guests, then?" Mare nodded, and he gave a small chuckle. "What do you think?"

"Odd company. However I don't feel so… well… I don't know how to describe it, exactly…"

"Aha! You've been bonding with them over drinks and idle conversation!"

"Well, they were starting to feel neglected." She sighed. "Most of them are tolerable, but-"

"Tolerable?" Kelsier interrupted, sitting down beside her.

I was such a nice night, Mare almost didn't care about the interruption, or the fact that his shoulder was touching hers. "Well, tolerable at _least_. Dox seems to be the only one who respects me, really. Breeze tolerates me, but I think he doubts my abilities. You know, my being a woman and all. And then I don't even know what to make of Vent-"

Kelsier cut in again. This time, without a smile. "I don't think it's because you're a woman." Mare started to ask for clarification, but Kelsier held up his hand. "Just listen. Have you ever thought about what they think of you? What their impressions of you are?"

"…No?"

"You come off a bit… standoffish."

Mare stared at him. Was he being serious? "Standoffish?"

"That's what I mean right there. You expect to be treated like a lady. You don't _want_ to be treated like one, but that's what you're used to. Am I right?" Mare nodded. "Good," Kelsier said, looking away. "So – and this is just a guess, really – you expect people to not respect you, or to treat you different because you're a woman. I bet Marsh did that all the time, the perfect gentleman he is. You want to be a thief because you want money, true, but also because you want to stop acting like a lady." He looked at Mare again. "Right?"

Mare paused. "Not in the slightest."

"I expected as much." Kelsier said, and a small smile made its way to his lips. "Still, I picked those guys for a reason. Not because they're good at what they do, but that's a big part of it too. But because I care about the kind of people they are. These are good men, and most of them are like my brothers. And I'd like you to be part of this metaphorical family. What do you say?"

The cold was beginning to seep through Mare's clothes. Cursing that she hadn't worn a cloak over her thin cotton dress, she sighed. "I've always wanted a brother." She crossed her arms around her chest. "Even one who smiled too much. What about Ruddy?"

Kelsier's grew serious again. "Well…" he began, starting to stand. "I can say this: he's not a good man. But we needed a Smoker, and with Clubs off who-knows-where… well, you're free to scowl at him all you'd like. Come on," he said, "You must be freezing."

Mare smiled, then lifted her hand for Kelsier to aid her to a standing position. He obliged. "I don't suppose you're going to reveal your plan for the next job, huh?" she asked, smoothing her cotton dress once her feet were on the ground.

Kelsier grinned. "Not if I can help it. However, I have tasks for you all."

"Yippee?"

"With more enthusiasm, please! And trust me, this is where it starts to get fun."

With Kelsier helping her to the door, Mare found herself thinking, for the first time, that she liked him. Aside from all the grinning, the ankle-spraining, and the ability to get under her skin like a barbed needle, he had some kind of charm that no Misting could match.

That was probably why he made such a good thief.

The door burst open as Kelsier entered the room. He scanned the parlor room and noted that, to his disappointment, he was greeted by blank stares, and in the case of Dockson, disapproving faces. Disapproving was all right, but sometimes Kelsier missed the early days when the crew would round on him with choruses of "Where were you?" and "You're late!" Ah, the good old days.

"You're late," Dockson stated, then took another sip from the glass in his hand. "Not that that's surprising."

"If you know I'm going to be late, why do the rest of you arrive on time?"

"Tradition, I guess. So, do you have a plan yet, or is it still a vague concept in your head?" Dockson asked. It was amazing how he could still smile when he said that, considering how sardonic his tone was.

Kelsier took a deep breath, then sat down on a small stool nobody else seemed to have noticed. "We have, at our disposal, funds, a Smoker, a Soother, a Pewter savant, and a Tineye. What we lack are schematics of the Keep, knowledge of the security-"

"And an actual plan?" Breeze guessed, eyebrows raised.

Kelsier shot a grin at Breeze "Why must you all doubt me so? I have a plan, believe me. It's just that I like building up suspense." The crewleader glanced back at Dockson. "I was going to say, we lack information about what we're going to face on the actual raid. Dox?"

"Alright. Keep Elariel's hosting a ball in the next few days or so. Breeze can slip in then and try to Soothe one of the nobles there. Otherwise, I'm sure he could get a servant drunk enough to loosen his lips."

"Haha, Dox."

"Ruddy, this is the first time you're in this crew. If you impress me, it won't be your last. Can you get a hold of weapons, and shields of some sort? I want to avoid any Coinshots, Lurchers, or Lord Ruler forbid Mistborn. Yet on the off-chance…"

"I have a friend in the weapons business," the Smoker said, his dark eyes glinting. He seemed almost voracious for action; Kelsier didn't like that look, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He just seemed… too eager. Ruthless, almost.

"What about me?" Vent asked, just a hint of a stutter in his words. "I don't really have a lot of contacts… And I don't do well with people…"

"You teach Mare how to actually fight." Vent's jaw dropped. "You're good at fighting, and probably a better teacher than me. Mare's a good student, anyway, even after breaking her ankle."

"I can't teach her! I can't teach at all!"

Kelsier sighed. "Try. I promise you, it'll be easier than you think. At least you won't break her ankle." He turned to Mare. "You don't mind Vent teaching you the basics?"

"As long as he doesn't break my ankle."

Kelsier grinned. "Perfect. So the objective are that Breeze infiltrates, Ruddy negotiates weapons, Vent teaches, and Mare learns. Oh, and Dox is in charge of making sure everything is working as planned."

"While Kelsier is in charge of planning. And creating an actual, concrete, plan. One with specifics," Dox added.

"I have a plan already."

"I'm choosing mot to believe you until you have shared said plan, and instead assuming that you have no idea what you're going to do, but you know it'll be something crazy." Dox paused. "I'm guessing your plan is currently: rush inside, either avoid or defeat the security, get atium, bust our way out. Verbatim."

"You wound me, Dox," Kelsier replied, standing up. "Alright, let's all go our separate ways, and reconvene here in two weeks. I should ready to tell you the entirety of the plan then. Except you, Vent," he added as all the men started to stand. "How's about you stay here for a while? Mare could use some company during the day."

The pewter savant quivered. "I… Kelsier, sir, I couldn't impose…"

"Think of it as a favor to Mare, _and _to me. I'm gone during the day, and it'd be easier on you, since you're going to be teaching Mare. But you'll have to lay off the pewter."

Vent stopped moving, and Kelsier could imagine what was going on in the man's head. A nervous lad, Vent would be trying to guess the odds of being ambushed by the Lord Ruler's forces, and how likely it was he could defend himself without the aid of pewter. He was vacillating for about ten seconds when Mare added, "They'll find you out here as soon as Ruddy leaves with his coppercloud. If the Lord Ruler found you anyway, there's no need to keep from burning it."

Kelsier gave her a look. She was a smart one, Mare. In any case the muscles in Vent's shoulders relaxed. "I suppose… I'll get my things from Keep Hastings, and try to burn out my pewter there." With a nod of dismissal from Kelsier, the young man loped through the front door, and slammed it behind him.

The remaining crew stared up at the ceiling and the bits of dust that fell from it. "Are you sure having Vent in your house is a good idea?" Dox asked. "He's a bit… well, you know how he is."

"I think that once he's off pewter for a while, he'll settle down." Glancing at Mare, then back to Dox, he added, "Besides, this is as good for him as it is for me. Going on pewter as much as he does can't be good for him. Anybody, for that matter." He bit his lip then. "And _everybody _needs to be at the top of their game when we move against Keep Elariel."


	11. Nightmare

A Dark Horse: Chapter Eleven

Again, the world and overwhelming majority of the characters belong to Brandon Sanderson.

It was a nightmare.

It wasn't ash that rained down from the sky; fire shone as it careened toward the city, and splashed on the stony streets leaving only a charred stain where it had landed. The mist was gone from this night, only to be replaced by smog that left tears in the eyes and a foul taste in the air. Still, the smog wasn't enough to muffle the few screams that pierced Vent's ears. The end had come.

_The end. The end of everything, and it's his fault. You should have stopped him while you had the chance._

Though the heat was that of a summer day, Vent shivered. The voice had tormented him as long as he could remember, and now it was his personal demon in this hell. The voice was his personal demon, and the Lord Ruler was the devil who had finally bestowed his final wrath on the planet.

Vent flared his pewter, and felt the muscles in his legs grow tense. The shop doorway he huddled under offered little shelter. Too many had already died, whether from the precipitating fire or the various buildings that had collapsed. He would have to run, and hopefully find a space under an already demolished building to avoid harm. The plan wasn't especially safe, yet something told Vent that safe plans were hard to come by these days.

_There's no safe place. He'll kill you._

Vent took a breath, then ran out into the open. The fire was tenacious, latching on to his sooty clothes as they fell from above. Vent ignored them; as long as the flames didn't burn his skin, they could turn his clothes to soot. His eyes darting about the deserted street, they landed upon a pile of bricks, formerly some poor family's house. Vent imagined himself buried underneath the rubble, safe from the flames and away from the Lord Ruler's eyes. With pewter, it was possible.

Within seconds the young man was heading for the pile of bricks, his arm outstretched to clear a place for his trembling body.

_Too late! _

Vent turned around, and saw the devil's eyes. The crown of his head reached twenty feet above; his eyes burned, not like the fire that ate through Vent's clothing, but like snow and mordant wind combined. His hands reached out to the Thug, and Vent noticed the Lord Ruler's nails were ten inches long. Grey and metallic, they glinted like terrible spikes, and they reached for his throat –

Hooves pounded on the cobblestone streets, and Vent suddenly felt… well, not scared.

Vent woke up in a cold sweat. "Lord Ruler!" The dreams again, but… No, they were simply dreams. Dreams that were no doubt typical of a paranoid that had grown up on the streets, darting this way and that to avoid trouble with obligators and other street urchins that had a few years on him. Not for the first time, he imagined that he had known about his Allomancy in those days; it would have saved him from numerous beatings.

But it probably would've gotten him killed once an obligator noticed it. Sighing, Vent turned his head to the side. There was no way he was going to fall asleep again, not after that particular dream. It wasn't just that it had seemed too real – he had so many dreams of the Lord Ruler chasing after him – but the ending. He hadn't died this time, but woke with a feeling of something he had never felt in those dreams. Hope? Bravery? Whatever it was, it had Vent chewing the inside of his cheek in thought, ignoring the scars he'd inflicted on himself with the habitual behavior and pewter-enforced jaws.

Hooves. And that feeling of… something. Why did dreams have to fade so quickly? Vent gave up on trying to figure it out, and turned his attention to the room again. Kelsier's apartment was small but cozy, with simple furnishings. Vent had made a pile of blankets his bed, all retrieved from Keep Hastings. It was a bit colder than he expected, true, but at least he didn't have to worry about nobility dropping into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Nobility made him anxious.

Mare slept in her cot, propped against the back of the room, and Kelsier was in the one bedroom. They were sleeping, unless Vent's sudden shout had woken them. Back in Keep Hastings's kitchens at least several servants would have given him irritated stares. Vent felt naked without the familiar burn of pewter in his stomach, but at least he had Mare and Kelsier nearby. Sure, Kelsier wasn't a Misting, but he had dealt with enemies before; he wasn't defenseless by any means. As for Mare, the Tineye'd probably know about any intruders before they even touched the building. Yet, what comforted Vent most was that he wouldn't be on his own should disaster strike.

_You're that confident in your fellow house-mates? Your guard is slipping._

Vent found that he was gripping his topmost blanket, so that his nails were digging into his palms through the fabric. It had been a while since the voice had spoken to him, outside his dreams, of course. He forced his hands to unclench, and gazed above at the ceiling. "Yes," he answered in a whisper. Mare and Kelsier... they weren't friends, not exactly. But they were his teammates. And as long as there was a job to do, a heist to pull... Well, was there anyone more useful for a job than a pewter savant?

The thug grinned, not nervous at all.


	12. Change of Pace

A Dark Horse: Chapter Twelve

World and characters belong to Brandon Sanderson

Mare's dreams were indistinct, a swirling maelstrom of color and emotion. The first thing to present itself coherently to her was a savory blend of herbs and fresh baked bread; the second was a slight throbbing in her head. She opened her eyes, then shut them to what light was streaming through the windows. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Kelsier's already left," a familiar voice answered. Vent. Mare brought herself to open her eyes again, winced a bit, and sat up on her cot. The Thug was standing in the kitchen area, cutting up a loaf of bread into slices. "I decided that you could use some extra sleep, seeing as how we were all up so late. Bread?"

Mare blinked a few times. "Uh, yes." Vent took a plate from one of the cupboards above his head, and placed a few slices on it. He turned around, a small smile on his dark face. Mare watched him carefully, and accepted the dish without taking her gaze off the awkward expression on his face. "You seem in a good mood," she said, careful with her wording. "Compared to yesterday..."

"Well, I... I had a good night's sleep," he said, stuttering a bit. "New day, and all."

Mare nodded, and sank her teeth into one of the warm slices on her plate. Her eyes widened, prompting Vent's smile to inch a little wider. She swallowed quickly. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten."

"Thank you." Vent sat, quiet as Mare tore into her breakfast, that same curious smile on his face the entire time. As Mare ate, she wondered at the sudden change in Vent's behavior. It wasn't visible just in his actions, but even present in the way he held himself, in his voice; there was an odd optimism in him. It wasn't the brash confidence Kelsier displayed, but something quieter. "I'll take your plate," he said once Mare finished.

She handed it to him in the same cautious manner she accepted it. "You seem really different from last night. More... reassured, I guess. You just had a good night's sleep? That's all?"

Vent set her plate on the crude kitchen counter. "Well, I had a good dream." For a second, Mare thought he was going to tell her about the dream, but then he glanced up at her with his quiet smile. "Get ready quickly; I can't excuse you from your lessons just because of a sprained ankle. We've got to get you defending yourself before Keep Elariel sets their Hazekillers on you."

"Is it a good idea to train me at Keep Hastings? Or is there some sort of precedence for preparing to rob one noble family in the home of another?" Mare asked, looking around the room Vent called 'home'. The entire kitchen was bathed in warm, if insubstantial, light; it was impossible to tell if it was red marble tiling composing the kitchen floor, or brown tiling altered by the lack of good light. Her leg still wrapped in yellowing gauze, she sat on a much too small and much abused wooden stool in the middle of the room.

Vent stood in the very center, away from the counters and ovens, with a dueling cane in each hand. "Well, it's better than in broad daylight where any number of informants can see. Besides, I got all the servants here to clear out for a few hours or so – it'd be rude if I didn't make use of that. You don't want to know how I'm going to make up for that later. So, here." He gave one of the canes a light toss, and by some miracle it ended up in Mare's hand. "Have you ever used a cane before?"

"Ah, no."

Vent gripped his weapon with both hands. "Well, holding it correctly is the first thing. Maneuvering it is the second. Then..." Mare stared at the lanky man, pursing her lips in a quizzical expression. "I'm sorry, am I doing something wrong?"

"You just seem so... relaxed. And certain of yourself. It's eerie." Vent stared back at Mare, his lips barely parted. "Well, that and when Kelsier tried teaching me, he kind of shoved me right into it. And convinced me into jumping off a building. But this... I like this. Less bruising, I would think."

Mare jumped at one of the oddest sounds she had ever heard: Vent's snort of laughter. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry to tell you this, but Kelsier's first lesson with you was one of these easiest you'll have to endure." He glanced at Mare's stance. "Yes, that's right. Now, we're going to start with defense maneuvers. I'll swing, and you block. It sounds easy, I know, but you've got to keep a proper form while defending yourself; it's much easier to move quickly keeping your weapon close to your body. As for that ankle," he said, tapping the bandaging with his cane, "once it's healed up, we'll start on footwork."

"I thought you said you never taught anyone before?"

Vent paused. "You have to understand, today's a rather odd day for me." He brought the cane up in an arc over his head, straight down onto Mare's cane, extended over her head. "Good, your reflexes seem to be fine. Of course, only an idiot would try to attack you swinging a cane over his head, unless he had something else up his sleeve. Gives you too much time to react. Let's see what else you can defend yourself against."

By the time Vent was satisfied with Mare's first lesson, her arms felt gelatinous. Bruises blossomed on her shoulders, her back groaned with fatigue, and her head felt like it had been used as a bell clapper. Kelsier spraining her ankle was now a blessing; her legs were spared from the pain. "I warned you," Vent said, picking up the cane she had dropped moments earlier on the tile floor, placing it back behind the stove. "Just imagine if I had been burning pewter; you'd be unconscious by now."

Rubbing at the base of her neck, Mare gave a scowl. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but... well..."

"Kelsier may have sprained your ankle, but I broke your entire body?"

"Feels like it, anyway."

Vent smiled. "Great. Sometimes you have to break in order to get stronger. I guarantee you, we keep at your training, you'll be able to endure more damage. Hopefully you'll learn how to avoid some of that damage, but sometimes the best way to defend yourself is to take the pain."

"That sounds like a terrible way to defend oneself."

"It's worked well enough for me."

"You're a Pewterarm."

"Well, I'm also deathly afraid of pain, so I would say we're even." He twirled his cane in the air; Mare instinctively flinched. "You'll find out that a little fear is a good thing to have in a fight."

Even as he spoke about fear, his voice was strangely nonchalant. Perhaps it was the location, Mare thought to herself. But no – he had been smiling this morning, and yet last night he had been trembling at any sound. Now that she thought about it, last night he had also been oh so careful with the glasses, as if he might break them, yet he had shown no hesitation with Mare in the last half hour. "Vent?"

He dropped his cane. Apparently he had slipped into his thoughts while Mare pondered his attitude. "Yes?" he asked, retrieving his weapon off the floor.

"You seem... do you have a lot of these mood changes?"

He paused. "I... well, I... no. Not really. This is just...something new." Before Mare could ask him to elaborate further, he walked over to the stool she sat on, and extended an arm. "Our hour is up, and the staff should start filing in at any moment. Let's get out of here before a servant boy sees you and takes a liking to you."

As Mare took his arm, she came across a realization. Yes, Vent seemed more relaxed, more confident – but he only smiled while looking at her. But what was most eerie to her; she didn't mind it at all.


End file.
